Archmagister

by Kerns, Robert M.

  “Indeed, sir. Said rectification is already underway,” Hartley responded. “Will there be anything else, Milord?”

  Gavin directed a questioning glance at Garris, who shook his head ‘no’ while reaching for what appeared to be an apple pastry. Turning back to Hartley, Gavin answered, “No, thank you, Hartley. I appreciate your assistance.”

  “Of course, Milord.” The specter faded from view as he left the room.

  Gavin helped himself to some tea, deciding he liked it without any additives. He selected an apple pastry for himself as well. Both he and Garris sat in a companionable silence while they enjoyed their refreshments.

  “There is one other thing,” Gavin said after refilling his cup. “I’d like for you to devote some time to consider things that need changing here in Tel. I have the Conclave resuming their traditional authority over the provinces and preparing a review of Tel’s laws and tax code. In some ways, I still feel very much the outsider to Tel, and I’m not sure what all needs fixed. The former Royal Guard, obviously, is one…but what else is sitting out there?”

  “You make an excellent point, Milord,” Garris responded. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  Gavin glanced at the lower shelf of the cart and smiled at seeing containers for both the tea and the pastries.

  “I greatly appreciate you taking time out of your day to speak with me,” Gavin said. “I hate to chat and run, but today is very hectic with it being my first day back in Tel. But Hartley was thoughtful enough to supply a small jug and sack. Please, take the tea and pastries with you if you like.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” Garris began.

  Gavin shrugged. “I can’t swear that they won’t go to waste if you don’t. Don’t feel like you have to take them, but if you’re even slightly interested, you’re welcome to them.”

  Garris glanced at the tray of pastries again and, after a moment, nodded. “Thank you, Milord. My officers will enjoy them when I call on the command conference to discuss your request for troops.”

  It was a simple matter to transfer the tea and pastries, and Hartley arrived to escort Garris out when they stepped into the hall.

  * * *

  Gavin entered the suite that had been his home and, in some ways, still was. A part of him still expected to see Marcus sitting in the left-hand armchair by the hearth. Xythe stepped out of the room Gavin had shared with Kiri and nodded a greeting, just as Jasper stepped out of what had been Marcus’s room.

  “Hi,” Gavin said. “I just wanted to see how you’re settling in.”

  “I believe we are well,” Xythe replied. “With your permission, we would like to visit a tailor soon. While I don’t need clothes as such, Holly left Vushaar with just what she was wearing.”

  Gavin nodded. “Yes, if you can wait until after I meet with the Council of Magisters, I’ll take you both to the tailor Marcus used for Kiri and me.”

  “May I ask when you are planning to start lessons?” Xythe asked.

  “That’s an excellent question,” Gavin remarked. “Right off the top of my head, I’m thinking tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then definitely the day after that. I have to sort through some matters dealing with my return to Tel, as well as being the Archmagister, but I’m hoping that won’t be too involved. Is that good?”

  Xythe nodded. “Of course.”

  “Okay. The dining hall opens for lunch at the midday bell, but they also keep a selection of finger foods available throughout the day. The dining hall is on the main floor. Just turn right when you reach the bottom of the Grand Stair and it’ll be on your right about two or three doors down.”

  “Thank you,” Xythe replied.

  “I’ll check back in with you after I meet with the Council.”

  Gavin turned and left the suite.

  * * *

  The Council of Magisters occupied their seats around the horseshoe-shaped table. Several of them whispered among themselves about the Archmagister’s identity, as Valera had chosen not to share it when she called the meeting. More than one of her associates came close to glaring at her over it.

  Moments after the first bell after midday echoed through the Tower, the door of the Archmagister’s private entrance opened and closed, and the magisters heard footsteps. But the Archmagister’s seat and dais blocked their view. Everyone watched the space around the dais intently, and soon, a gold-robed figure stepped into view. Valera kept her expression neutral, but the rest of the magisters gaped at the new Archmagister in silence.

  Well…all but one.

  Tauron’s voice carried throughout the chamber when he said, “Oh, shit…”

  Chapter 16

  Gavin sighed as he stepped through the entrance to the Citadel. The meeting with the Council of Magisters hadn’t been too arduous, and to be quite honest, Gavin rather enjoyed how Tauron never quite got beyond an expression that reminded Gavin of a poleaxed cow. The entire meeting, it seemed like Tauron had problems keeping up; he never once objected or raged over anything.

  The meeting with the Council was a formality for the most part, a mere introduction to identify himself as Archmagister. Gavin didn’t have any significant changes to the College or the Society as yet, but a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that it would only be a matter of time.

  Gavin was so tired that Hartley resolving into view beside him didn’t provoke surprise at all.

  “Good afternoon, Milord,” Hartley said. “Did the meeting with the Council go well?”

  “It went,” Gavin replied, adding a shrug. “I’ll leave it up to someone else to define it as ‘well’ or something else.”

  Hartley nodded. “I see, Milord. We have yet to discuss a comprehensive agenda and itinerary. What do you need to focus on next?”

  Gavin turned that question over in his mind a couple times before he nodded. “I should probably speak with Nathrac, Hartley. Can you arrange that?”

  “Of course, Milord. When would you like to do so?”

  “I have no idea, because I don’t know what his schedule is like. I would like for it to happen sooner rather than later. It’s been a long day, and I’m looking forward to sleep.”

  Hartley nodded again. “I shall ask about a fairly immediate meeting, then. In terms of sleep, I have taken the liberty of having the bed linens replaced in the master suite, Milord. I spoke with the tailor Marcus used, and—”

  Hartley stopped speaking when Gavin growled and whacked the closest wall with a fist, though not hard enough to do himself any harm.

  “May I ask what is wrong, Milord?”

  Gavin sighed. “I was supposed to take my apprentices to that very tailor after the Council meeting. Do you know how long the tailor is still open today?”

  “The tailor—like almost all businesses in the city—is open until the evening bell. You have at least three bells until then, Milord…plenty of time.”

  “Okay,” Gavin said. “I’m going to take my apprentices to the tailor. Track down Nathrac and ask him if he’d be available to speak with me once I return.”

  “Of course, Milord.”

  Gavin pivoted on his heel and returned to the entry portal, stepping through it and vanishing from the Citadel.

  * * *

  Gavin arrived in the hallway outside his suite and saw Lillian as she stepped out of her family’s suite further down the hall. He smiled.

  “Hi, Lillian.”

  “Hello, Milord,” Lillian replied, and Gavin fought the urge to cringe. “I was just retrieving some items I’d left in the suite before our trip to Vushaar. How are Xythe, Holly, and Jasper settling in?”

  Gavin nodded. “Well, I think. Say…would you mind helping me with something?”

  “Not at all. What do you need?”

  “I’m taking them to the tailor Marcus used, but I don’t know what a young girl like Holly would need in terms of clothes. And…well…”

  Lillian smiled. “You’d like me to go along and help?”

  “If you have the time,” Gavi
n replied.

  “Of course, I have the time. If you don’t mind, I’ll carry these things with me and head to the estate once we finish at the tailor.”

  Gavin nodded again. “That will be just fine.”

  Gavin, Lillian, Xythe, Jasper, and Holly went to the tailor shop Marcus had taken Gavin and Kiri to all those months ago. As they traveled, a couple people surreptitiously made themselves known to Gavin by showing their wrist tattoos, and he couldn’t keep from smiling. He suspected he was getting the iceberg treatment, certain the Wraiths he identified were—at best—ten percent of the total number around them.

  When they arrived at the tailor, the middle-aged elf fawned all over Gavin being the new Archmagister. Gavin bore up as long as he could but soon redirected the tailor’s attention to his apprentices, explaining he was just seeing to their introduction and covering all expenses. That declaration made, he found a comfy seat and let the tailor whisk everyone else into the back to work her brand of magic.

  * * *

  Gavin again entered the Citadel, and he felt like sighing. He’d just left his apprentices in his old suite, thrilled with their purchases from the tailor. Well, Holly was. Xythe only got some brown initiate robes, and Jasper—like most guys Gavin knew—seemed largely indifferent to his clothes. Gavin shrugged; he had never seen dracons with an overabundance of clothing, so maybe it was racial.

  Hartley faded into view, saying, “Excellent timing, Milord. Nathrac just arrived and is waiting for you in the sitting room where you met with Commander Roshan.”

  “Thank you, Hartley.”

  Gavin walked the short distance to the sitting room and saw a figure in a purple robe standing by the hearth. The figure turned, revealing fiery-red eyes with vertical slits for pupils inside otherwise impenetrable shadow.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Nathrac,” Gavin said. “Please, be seated.”

  “You’re welcome,” Nathrac replied, “and congratulations on your new title.”

  As before, Nathrac’s voice was so deep and powerful that it seemed to resonate against Gavin’s bones.

  “I’m not totally certain congratulations are in order, but thank you,” Gavin remarked. “It’s only my first day back in Tel, and I’m so tired I’ve wanted to sleep since midday.”

  Nathrac nodded. “That has seemed to be the case with those who have held the position in the past. They often remarked about not having enough hours.”

  “Well, at least I’m off to a good start, then. I wanted to speak with you about some changes I want to make to the Constitution of Tel. Specifically, the sections regarding what happens if there’s never an Archmagister. As it is written right now, civil authority passes to the royal family with authority over the Society passing to the Council of Magisters. I would like to change it so that you become the interim Archmagister until such time as Bellos names a new one. Are you agreeable to that?”

  “The constitution certainly needs to be changed, given that the royal family is no more,” Nathrac remarked. After a few moments’ silence, he added, “Yes, it is agreeable. In any instance where there is no Archmagister or the current Archmagister is unavailable, I will step in and oversee the Kingdom and the Society until Bellos names a replacement or the Archmagister returns.”

  Gavin smiled. “Thank you. That is a weight off my shoulders. I’ll publish the change along with the notification that the Royal Guard is disbanded.”

  “May I ask what you’ll use the palace complex for?”

  Gavin shrugged. “Honestly, I was thinking of turning it into a kind of Embassy Row, if I can repair all the damage the royal family did to our relations with other countries. It’ll probably require extensive remodeling to achieve that, but nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

  Nathrac nodded. “I would not be surprised if the other races or countries are rather quick to re-establish diplomatic relations. You are, after all, the last of the Divine Emissaries. I cannot imagine anyone risking Bellos’s displeasure if they snub you. Personally, I feel Bellos would be indifferent to anyone snubbing you, as it’s your situation to handle, but most mortals wouldn’t think that way.”

  “Well, I’ll take whatever advantage I can get,” Gavin replied, grinning.

  “Is there anything else?” Nathrac asked. “I have time for anything you need, but I don’t want to keep you from your rest.”

  Gavin turned the question over in his head for a couple moments before shaking his head. “No…I think we’ve covered everything I wanted to discuss.”

  “Then, I shall bid you farewell,” Nathrac said, as he stood. “Should you have need of me, merely call out my name.”

  A column of flame that neither burned nor radiated heat enveloped Nathrac from the floor up, and when it disappeared, he was gone.

  Chapter 17

  The morning of his second day back in Tel, Gavin met two companies of Battle-mages outside the palace complex. The officer in command was a woman who introduced herself as Major Ilona Saveen. If anyone had asked him before that morning how Battle-mages deployed for action, Gavin would have guessed that they wore robes just like any other arcanist…and he would’ve been incredibly wrong.

  The Battle-mages in front of him stood in two rectangular formations of ten across and twenty-five ranks deep. They wore chainmail shirts and coifs and carried everything from single-bladed war axes to double-headed war hammers. The only consistency appeared to be they all wielded one-handed weapons. Belted tabards hung over their armor, colored to show their personal philosophy toward the Art, and the tabards were trimmed in a colored band that represented their specialization within the Art, if any.

  “Didn’t expect us to be in armor with weapons, did you, Milord?” Major Saveen asked, clearly to enjoy Gavin’s surprise.

  “No…no, I really didn’t,” Gavin said, his eyes still roaming over the assembled troops.

  Saveen smiled. “We get that a lot from people who’ve never seen us in training or on deployment. If I may ask, what’s the situation? Commander Roshan just said to bring two companies and meet you at the palace complex this morning.”

  “We’re disbanding the Royal Guard,” Gavin replied. “I’m hoping your presence will convince them to go peacefully. I could go it alone, but I fear they would try to fight a single person, which would force me to eliminate them. I’d rather not add to my personal body count today; it’s already high enough as it is.”

  Saveen nodded. “I can see that. Very well, Milord. Lead the way; we’ll have your back.”

  Gavin approached the gates of the palace complex and found two Royal Guardsmen standing just inside.

  “Open the gate,” Gavin said. “I’m here to speak with everyone in the former Royal Guard.”

  “What do you mean ‘former?’ We’re still here,” one of the guardsmen said.

  Gavin looked the man right in the eyes. “Are you or your friend going to open the gate or not? I’m not going to discuss my reason for being here until I’m in front of the entire group. I will not repeat myself.”

  The two guardsmen looked to one another and actually shrugged. Gavin felt like sighing and shaking his head. In the end, though, they opened the gate.

  “Major, if you would, please leave four here to secure the gate,” Gavin said as he entered the palace complex for the second time in his life. He heard the order repeated through the ranks behind him as he followed the guardsmen.

  The guardsmen led Gavin and the Battle-mages not to the barracks but to the former throne room. That was the first surprise. The second was that the guardsmen had turned the throne room into a dining hall. Tables and benches lined the space, and the man Gavin expected was the head of the Royal Guard occupied the throne. The third—well, it wasn’t really a surprise at this point when one of guardsmen addressed the man on the throne as ‘Your Majesty.’

  “Yer Majesty,” one of guardsmen leading Gavin began, “he approached the gate and demanded to see you. He said he had something to say he wasn’t going to repeat.” />
  The man on the throne waved the two guardsmen away and said, “It is considered wise to request an audience with one’s king.”

  Gavin couldn’t help it. He laughed, finally saying, “Are you really certain that’s how you want this conversation to go? I don’t do take-backs or forgiveness.”

  “And just who are you to tell me any different? I control the palace. The kingdom’s taxes come here. The town guard reports here. To me, that says I control the kingdom.”

  Gavin sighed. “Very well.” He whispered the invocation of a Word of Transmutation that ensured both his voice and Major Saveen’s would fill the hall. “I am Gavin Cross of House Kirloth and, by Bellos’s choice, the Archmagister of Tel. You have no authority to crown yourself king, as the Constitution of Tel clearly specifies the Archmagister has full authority over the kingdom. Vacate that throne immediately and cease your witless posturing, or I will find you and anyone who stands with you in rebellion and guilty of treason.”

  If someone had dropped a pin on the flagstones at the palace gate the sound would have echoed throughout the room like a thunderclap.

  “Major Saveen, under the laws of Tel, what is the penalty for treason?” Gavin asked.

  “Death, Milord,” Saveen answered. “The exact method has varied historically, but the end result is always death.”

  Gavin looked pointedly the man sitting on Leuwyn’s throne and said, “Last chance.”

  The man didn’t budge, and Gavin’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening into a glare as he invoked the Word, “Thraxys.”

  The resonance of Gavin’s power slammed into every wizard within half a city block. The would-be king’s head lolled as the corpse slumped to one side. The guardsmen sitting around the tables looked from each other, to the corpse of their leader, and to Gavin…several times.